Hidden Memories
by darkchakram
Summary: When Harry discovers more of Snape's memories, a story of young love unfolds. Snape/Lily romance.
1. Chapter 1

Hidden Memories

By

Darkchakram

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of J. K. Rowling's characters that appear in the story. Written for fun!

Author's Note: I am a newcomer to the Wizarding World. I am sure there will be mistakes and perhaps inconsistencies. I apologize beforehand. As I am a sucker for unrequited love, I have fallen fabulously in love with the Snape/Lily storyline. Thus, this is a tale of young love.

Rated: M for violence and sexual situations.

Timeline: Post-Deathly Hallows

Summary: As Harry uncovers more of Snape's memories a tale of young love unfolds. Snape/Lily.

Chapter One

Summer had not yet arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place but Harry Potter wiped the sweat from his brow nonetheless. As he stuffed the white handkerchief back into his pocket, he considered the heat. He supposed it felt so hot because the preceding months had been so brutally cold. He'd spent more nights than he cared to remember sleeping in the cold woods. And to make matters worse, the dementors had been roaming all over England. As he flipped the page of the Daily Prophet he decided that it wasn't really that hot after all. It was only the absence of those hideous monsters who'd fled England upon Tom Riddle's final destruction.

"Does Master require a new hanky?" Kreacher shuffled into the room and presented Harry with a freshly pressed, pristinely white handkerchief.

"No, Kreacher. But thank you," Harry smiled. He wasn't exactly sure what to do with Kreacher. He knew that Hermione would be beyond pleased if he freed the elf but Harry worried that Kreacher would be devastated if he was offered clothes. He'd tried to broach the subject with the elf on more than one occasion but the look of utter terror and the way he'd nervously gnawed at the tips of his fingers each time had caused Harry to drop the subject.

"Would Master prefer the roast beef or chicken for dinner this evening?" the elf asked as he cleared up Harry's breakfast tray.

"Umm, I won't be eating in tonight, Kreacher. Ginny and I are going on a date," Harry didn't even bother to contain his excitement.

"Well, at least she is a pure-blood, even if she is a child of blood traitors."

"Kreacher what have I told you?" Harry gently reprimanded.

"Sorry, sorry, Master. Kreacher forgets that Master's friends. . ." Kreacher whacked himself in the head with the breakfast tray before Harry could take it from him.

"There's no need for punishment, Kreacher. Just try to remember. . ."

"Yes, Mudbloods and blood traitors are our friends," Kreacher choked out.

Harry winced at the derogatory term but didn't correct the elf a second time. He couldn't stand to see him try to punish himself again.

"Sir," Kreacher turned before heading out of the sitting room. "Good luck, today."

"Thank you," Harry nodded. He looked down at his watch. In two hours, he had his first job interview. He couldn't help but think that it was ridiculous for him to be nervous. After all, he'd faced down the darkest wizard in history. How hard could it really be to get through a job interview at the Ministry of Magic? Still, the butterflies in his stomach were flapping wildly.

A little voice inside his head told him it wasn't the interview that had the butterflies jittering but his date with Ginny. He didn't understand why he felt so silly. He had seen Ginny plenty of times in the past month. They'd even locked lips on more than one occasion. He guessed that it was the fact that this was going to be their first date in the Muggle world. His first date as a man. Plus, he was picking her up at the Burrow and it would be the first time he would be showing up on Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's doorstep as a suitor to their only daughter. Harry's stomach churned anew.

Harry tossed the Prophet aside. He needed to get dressed. He had a long day ahead of him. After his interview he needed to pick up some flowers for Ginny. He also needed to make a much needed trip to Diagon Alley to buy another owl. He hadn't been since he, Ron, and Hermione had left on the back of a blind dragon. The Ministry had worked hard to get them cleared of bank robbery charges. He had been avoiding Diagon Alley until the situation had been cleared up. He had word from Kingsley Shaklebolt two days earlier that he was free to access his vault at Gringotts. The thought of buying a new owl saddened him but he needed a way to communicate with the rest of the wizarding world, especially since Ginny would be returning to Hogwart's in the fall.

Harry went through the mental checklist of all the things he needed to do at Diagon Alley. An owl, new robes, visit George, pick up floo powder. As he was going over his list, he noticed the grate in front of his fireplace vibrate. It was warm so there were no flames flickering in the hearth. But suddenly a burst of green shot down from the chimney and Kingsley Shaklebolt stood in his sitting room, towering over Harry.

"Sir," Harry jumped. "I thought my interview was later this morning."

"It is," Kingsley reassured, then looked around the room secretly. Harry hoped it was habit and not worry that prompted the caution.

"Is everything alright?" Harry subconsciously rubbed his forehead.

"Yes, of course, may I sit?"

"Absolutely," Harry pointed to a chair and tried not to be embarrassed that he hadn't offered his guest a seat. He was new at the whole adult with your own place thing.

As Kingsley made himself comfortable, Kreacher popped into the room and looked at Harry expectantly.

Kingsley also looked to the elf. Then back to Harry.

Harry looked to Kreacher who Harry noticed was standing with perfect posture and had a cloth napkin draped over his left forearm. His right arm was tucked behind his back.

"Oh," Realization dawned on Harry. "Kreacher, could you bring the Minister a cup of tea?"

"Right away, Sir." Kreacher bowed and turned. "So well connected, my master is," Harry heard the elf mumbling pridefully as he walked away.

"So, how are you settling in, my boy?" Kingsley asked out of both curiosity and concern. It couldn't be easy. Harry had been through a great deal in the past year. And now, he was living alone. Solitude could be one's greatest friend and most dreaded enemy.

"This place does take some getting used to. But, anything beats going back to the Dursley's," Harry reminded.

"Ah, yes," Kingsley smiled.

Kreacher returned with the tea tray and poured both men a cup of tea before backing out of the room again.

Kingsley poured a little cream into his cup and then sat back in his seat. He studied Harry for a moment before he began speaking. "You know we all detested Snape for what we thought he'd done to Dumbledore and, of course, betraying us all."

Harry nodded. He wasn't sure where this was going.

Kingsley continued, "It took us all aback, I think, when you revealed the truth of the matter. Having that monument built for him at Hogwarts was a fine tribute. He spent most of his time there."

"Probably the only place that felt like home," Harry answered and thought of the black marble tomb he'd had built next to Dumbledore's. Compatriots to the end.

"I had never thought that you two were particularly close," Shaklebolt took a sip of tea.

"We just didn't understand each other for a long time. I wish I could've known things before. . . when I could've said something. But I suppose things happened the way they had to."

"Had to?"

"Well, in order to defeat Tom Riddle."

"Ah, yes, Voldemort."

"Yes," Harry had taken to calling the dark wizard by his birth name. No need to give him power he didn't deserve.

"Anyway," The Minister reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. "I was surprised by this, at first. But then, I remembered his great sacrifice."

Harry eyed the envelope and wondered what it had to do with Snape. With him and Snape.

"Harry, this is the last will and testament of Severus Snape." He handed it to Harry. "I debated just giving it to you when you came into the office today. But since your interview is a preliminary one, it won't be with me. I didn't want to miss you by accident, so I brought it myself. Oh, and here," He pulled a ring with several keys out of his jacket and gave them off to Harry as well.

"Keys. I don't understand," Harry took the proffered items.

"You, Harry, were named as Severus's sole heir."

"But," Harry stammered.

"No buts about it. You're the only name mentioned. It's all yours. His place in Spinner's End and all of his personal effects."

Harry looked at the key ring. Why so many keys, if he only had one house? Harry shook his head and then looked up at the Minister.

"Well, good luck today, son!" Shaklebolt drained the rest of his tea then stood and walked to the fireplace.

The light from the green flames danced across the papers as Harry pulled them from the envelope.

SSSSSSS

Dear Harry,

If you are reading this, then you have become aware of things which necessity had forced me to hide from you. I also hope that if you are holding these leaves it means that you were successful in your efforts against the Dark Lord. That you truly were the Chosen One. That Lily. . .that your mother did not die in vain.

You are probably wondering why you are my heir. You never guessed you'd one day be an heir to a Slytherin, did you? Ha. Permit me one moment of mirth, even if posthumously.

You, my boy, are the closest thing I ever had to a child. It will not be comfortable for you to hear, but I loved your mother. Yes, loved her with every fiber of my being. I made terrible choices. For many years, I blamed your father for my choices. And the truth remains that I loathe him as I write this. But my choices were my own, even if they were made, in part, in response to his repeated bullying. And while you inherited his complete and utter disregard for rules and regulations, you inherited her kindness and generosity. Had I made different choices I might have called you, Son. Alas, I went down a dark path, a road that Lily could not follow. One could even argue that I pushed her into his arms. Even though you are not the blood of my blood, the bone of my bone, you are Lily's. And for that, I bequeath everything to you.

You'll find soon enough, that I have little in the way of material possession but what I have must be left to someone and so they go to you. Do with the house as you see fit. As for my copy of Advanced Potion-Making that you so carelessly left in the Room of Requirement, you will find it waiting for you in my office at Hogwarts. The dungeon office, Potter, not the Headmaster's office.

Do try and stay out of trouble,

Severus

SSSSSSS

No sooner had Harry closed the letter than an owl arrived from Hogwarts.

Harry took the envelope with the familiar seal. He quickly tore it open.

MMMMMMM

Dear Mr. Potter,

It has recently been brought to our attention that you are Professor Snape's heir. Please come to Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry no later than August 31st to claim Professor Snape's personal effects.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Interim Headmistress

P.S. I do hope this letter finds you well.

Harry sat stunned for a few minutes. The grandfather clock chiming in the hallway followed by Mrs. Black wailing about Mudbloods and blood-traitors reminded him that he had only an hour to get ready and get to his interview.


	2. Chapter 2

Hidden Memories

Chapter 2

A buzzard took to the air as two loud cracks carried across the dirty river. Harry checked quickly to make sure all of Ron had apparated successfully. Ron looked back at Harry, clearly annoyed.

"I'm okay, Mate. Will you quit doing that? I haven't had an incident in over a month." 

"Sorry," Harry turned his attention to the carcass the buzzard had abandoned. The bones were nearly picked clean, it was impossible to tell what creature had suffered such a fate. The ripped dark pelt wasn't even much of an indicator as covered in blood and bile as it was.

"Ewww," Ron said disgustedly when he saw what had captured Harry's eye. "So, Snape lived 'round here?"

"Yeah, about a half-mile away," Harry pointed to the older, grimier part of town. But he looked to the newer part of town on the other side of the river and knew that his mum had grown up there. He wondered if his grandparents were buried in the local cemetery. But he hadn't come he for that, he reminded himself. He'd come to settle things with Snape's estate. "Let's go," Harry nudged Ron forward.

By foot, they reached Spinner's End in under ten minutes, Ron grumbling half the way that they should have apparated closer. For his part, Harry had enjoyed the walk. Even if the river was muddy and swirled with eddies of filth, he felt a certain nearness to his mother that he just couldn't explain.

A tall, gaunt, black haired figure stood on the stoop of the final unit of a row of dilapidated houses. He held a thin leather briefcase.

"Mr. Potter? Raleigh Hargreaves, a pleasure." The man extended a slender hand.

Harry knew that Hargreaves was a Squib. Mr. Weasley had recommended him to Harry.

"Mr. Hargreaves, thank you for coming on short notice. This is Ron, Ron Weasley."

"Ah, Arthur's youngest boy?" Hargreaves' black eyes surveyed Ron.

"Yes, Sir," Ron offered his hand

After the pleasantries were out of the way, Hargreaves went right into business. "The house will go up tomorrow. But as I told you when we spoke over the phone, this isn't the best neighborhood. I wouldn't expect a buyer right away. And, of course, as you can see. It isn't going to bring much."

"Yes, well. As I stated, it was an inheritance. I'm not looking to turn a profit or anything."

"Very well. I have the paperwork for you to sign. Should we go inside?" Hargreaves obviously wasn't accustomed to doing business on the street.

"Yes, of course," Harry pulled the large key ring from his jean pocket.

Hargreaves looked at the front of the denim trousers with curiosity. The pockets hardly seemed large enough to have contained such a large amount of keys. His curiosity soon turned to envy. His brother had inherited all of the magical blood in their family. He smiled as Harry checked the key ring trying to figure which one would work the front door. Ron, however, noticed that Hargreaves' smile didn't meet his eyes.

The first key Harry settled on didn't open the door. Nor did the second or third. The fourth try was finally successful.

"Severus Snape was the previous owner?" Hargreaves asked.

"That's right," Harry nodded and waved away the dust that fell over them as they pushed open the door.

Ron sneezed as some of the renegade soot flew up his nose.

"Bless you," Harry and Hargreaves called simultaneously.

Ron responded by nodding and pulling a handkerchief from his pocket.

Stepping over the threshold, Harry wished he'd thought to bring a jacket. The house was unnaturally cold and dark.

"Wasn't Snape a professor at Hogwarts?" Hargreaves asked as he watched Harry pull out his wand and call Lumos. The tip of his wand lit the foyer.

"He was," Harry rasped.

Ron wondered what had caused Harry's throat to catch then he saw the coat rack. One of Snape's spare cloaks hung there as if waiting for him to come home.

"I'd heard he was a Death Eater." Hargreaves whispered as he took in the austere surroundings.

 _A folly of youth_ , Harry could almost hear Snape respond.

"We all make mistakes, not many of us bother to correct them," Harry philosophized.

Ron raised his eyebrows shocked at Harry's response. He was still getting used to Harry defending Snape.

They continued down the hallway. Faint light spilled from the sitting room window onto the hardwood floor. Harry turned into the room and cast a quick spell which sparked flames in the fireplace.

"Ah, thank you, much better," Hargreaves cheered. He sat down in an old armchair, sat his briefcase on his lap, and started retrieving papers. Harry and Ron sat on the couch opposite the realtor. As he sorted through the necessary files, Harry watched the flames in the fireplace behind dance from orange to blue and back to orange.

"Here we go," Hargreaves produced the papers and placed them atop the rickety table that sat between the men. He pulled a pen from his vest pocket and handed it to Harry. "I have all the areas you need to sign designated with those little flags. If it's circled you only need to initial."

'I see," Harry began looking over the documents.

"Wonder if there's anything to drink in there," Ron got up and padded into the nearby kitchen.

Surveying the wall to wall bookshelves, Hargreaves commented, "You probably have a fortune here in books."

Harry looked up from the forms and found Hargreaves reading the titles on the books shelved nearest him.

"Would you like me to arrange an auction? These books would bring a large sum." Hargreaves ran his finger along the spine of a book bound in ancient brown leather.

"Yeah, Hermione would give her first born for a room like this." Ron returned with a bottle and three glasses. He's right, though. There's a lot of wizards and witches that'd pay a pretty knut to get their paws on some of these books."

"No, but thank you, Mr. Hargreaves." Harry answered then turned to Ron. "What have you found?"

"Not sure, but looks promising," Ron popped the cork and poured each of them a glass full of rose-red wine.

Harry took an investigatory sniff befor he sipped. "Mmm, very good actually."

Hargreaves pulled a book from the shelf and read the title, _Enemies Beware: When Defensive Spells Aren't Enough_. Harry didn't have to guess why Snape would have read such a book. An image of his father tormenting Snape as a teenager ripped through his mind. Blue flames fighting the orange ones in the fireplace again cleared Harry's mind of the haunting memories to which he had no right.

"Mr. Hargreaves. Can we delay the listing of the house until Monday. I'd actually like to take some time to look these papers over." Harry asked.

"Well, I'm sure you'll find everything in order, Mr. Potter." Hargreaves replied a bit defensively.

"Oh, I am certain that I will. I just need a little time. I'm sure you understand." Harry stood and walked over to Hargreaves and held out his hand for the realtor to give him the book he'd pulled from the shelf.

Hargreaves seemed to realize that Harry was dismissing him for he handed Harry the book then closed his briefcase and stood up. He brushed his hands down the front of his jacket smoothing it then bowed. "I can show myself out."

"Nonsense," Harry motioned that Hargreaves should walk ahead of him to the front door.

When Harry returned, Ron was pouring himself a second glass of the wine. "Blimey, Harry what was that all about? You went from zero to dementor in less than three seconds."

"Doesn't matter," Harry took a sip of his wine and sat down with Ron.

"You aren't having second thoughts are you?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know. There was something covetous in the way he looked at all these books." Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, like I said before, there are a lot of folks that'd want to get. . ."

"Yeah, but he's a Squib."

"Since when has that bothered you?" Ron was confused.

"It's not that. It's. . .well, we don't know exactly what kind of books Snape has here. We'd need to go through them. There may be some Dark Arts stuff that we don't getting into the wrong hands."

"Voldemort is dead Harry. Gone."

"I know. But all of his supporters aren't," Harry reminded.

"Sure, but how strong are they, really? Without him, they're nothing. Where do you reckon the loo is?" Ron lit his wand with a nonverbal spell and headed back down the hallway.

Harry looked at the book that he'd taken from Hargreaves. He carefully opened the old tome. Scratched at the top of the title page in Slytherin green ink were the words: This book belongs to the Half-Blood Prince. Harry flipped to the _Table of Contents_ and began reading the chapter headings. "Disfigure," "Maim," and "Permanently Scar" were just some of the delightful titles. Harry wondered why Snape had never used one of the curses on his father, James.

Harry considered if Hogwarts might take the books. He could donate them to the library. Snape would appreciate that, wouldn't he? But then he realized he'd still have to find a way to store or dispose of any Dark Arts books that the school wouldn't take. He knew from first hand experience how difficult it could be to find a Dark Arts book when you needed it at Hogwarts. He wondered if there was a book on Horcruxes on the shelves.

Harry scanned through a few more pages. When he reached page 242, he found a folded, yellowed piece of parchment between the leaves. He heard the toilet flush down the hallway as he carefully unfolded the paper.

SSSSSSS

Sev,

I heard what happened. I came by your house but no one answered. I thought I saw your curtains move. Don't shut me out. I am here for you. My mum saw your mum at the market. She said she looked pretty out of sorts. And bruised. Are you okay? Please meet me tonight. Our spot. I'll bring a blanket. I'll be there til midnight.

Worried about you,

Lily

SSSSSSS

"Harry, Harry, hey Mate, you okay?" Ron stood in front of Harry snapping his fingers.

Blue flames shooting up the chimney startled the both of them. Ron jumped. "Blimey, the Floo Network Authority needs to send somebody out to give that thing a look."

"Huh? Oh yeah, the fire. Been acting funny."

'Whatcha got there?"

"A letter to Snape." Harry's stomach twisted, his mind turned. What had she meant by "our spot" and "bring a blanket"? Had his mum and Snape been romantically involved. Was there more to the story that Snape's affections for his mother? Had she been in love with Snape with Sev? Was she with him before she was with his father? Thoughts skittered through his head like Aragog's children scurrying across the floor of the Forbidden Forest.

"Who's it from?" Ron asked.

"Doesn't matter." Harry slipped the letter back into the book and tucked the book under his arm. We should get back to Grimmauld Place. Don't want to keep Hermione waiting."

"She's taking her N.E.W.T.s ."

"What? But Hogwarts already gave us all our degrees."

"Yes, but you know Hermione. She said she couldn't accept it without knowing she truly deserved it. So McGonagall set up a testing session just for her."

"Well. . . we should. . .um. . .go help your mum de-gnome the yard."

"Are you insane?" Ron looked at Harry like he'd turned into Luna Lovegood.

"Nope, let's just get going, okay," Harry ushered Ron toward the exit. He turned to extinguish the blazing orange fire.

"You're not going to sell this place, are you? Harry didn't like the accusatory tone Ron was taking or the fact that his friend was right.


	3. Chapter 3

Hidden Memories

Chapter 3

Thanks to Ginny's company, Harry had managed to put the letter out of his mind for the bigger part of Sunday. They'd spent the morning walking hand in hand through the fields near the Burrow. At noon, they met up with Hermione and Ron for lunch at a small cafe in town. As much as Harry missed his friends there was nothing like spending time alone with Ginny. The hours that they spent together, just the two of them, felt like stolen moments. Even at the Burrow he hadn't had as much privacy as he would've liked. Every once in awhile, he could see Mrs. Weasley popping out the back door to make sure no gnomes had crept back in since he and Ron had de-gnomed the yard.

Harry knew that it was both excitement and concern that prompted Mrs. Weasley's watchful eye. She had been elated when he and Ginny officially announced their relationship. But she was understandably on edge, given Fred's recent death. It was as if she was afraid if she let Ginny out of her sight something bad was going to happen. Harry had managed to steal a few chaste kisses but didn't want to get into full lip locking with an audience.

Harry and Ginny found Ron and Hermione seated in the outdoor patio. It was a warm day with a light breeze filled with the floral fragrances of late spring and early summer. They took their seats opposite of Ron and Hermione. As the waiter brought them over a couple of glasses of water, Harry felt Ginny take his hand under the table. He looked at her and smiled sweetly.

"So Mate, what did you decide to do about Snape's place?" Ron asked as he picked up the menu.

And just like that, his mind was back on the letter. What had his mum meant by "our spot?" Was he reading more into it than was there? Didn't friends have spots? Of course they did, He, Ron, and Hermione had had their spot at Hogwarts, down by the lake. Looking at Ron and Hermione cooing at each other on the other side of the table wasn't doing much to reassure him. Was it possible that his mother had fawned over Snape the way that Hermione was now brushing back an errant strand of Ron's hair? Had Snape tried to steal kisses from Lily as her mother watched out the back door as Mrs. Weasley had done today?

"Well?" Ron prodded impatiently.

"I sent a courier to Hargreaves today. I'll put it on the market later this summer."

"Ron tells me it's loaded with books." Hermione took her eyes off Ron for a second and looked at Harry excitedly.

"Yes, wall to wall. Say, would you be able to come and take a look at them with me? Help me decide what should be donated to Hogwarts, what I should keep, that sort of thing?"

"I'd love to. How's Tuesday? I can't Monday," Hermione beamed before she revealed the next bit of news. "When I was at Hogwarts taking my N. E. W. T.s, Professor McGonagall asked me to interview for the Transfiguration opening. Now that she's headmistress they need to fill that vacancy."

"Wow, Hermione that's really great," Ron praised and pulled her in for a hug. It seemed to Harry that he did that every opportunity he got.

"I'll be sure to get Es in my Transfiguration N.E.W.T.," Ginny cheered.

"Ruining the Weasley name, you are," Ron pointed at Ginny. "Think of all the hard work Fred and George put in, not to mention me."

Their ripples of laughter were interrupted by the waiter returning to take their order. When the waiter departed, Hermione nudged Ron's elbow. Harry noticed his friend shake his head. "Go on, Ron."

"Hermione!" Ron fussed.

"Fine, I'll tell them," she rolled her eyes. "Ron's trying out as backup keeper for the Chudley Cannons."

"What? That's great!" Harry exclaimed. Why hadn't he thought of a career in quidditch instead of the ministry? Was it too late to rethink that?"

"But, how?" Ginny asked.

Ron flushed red but finally found his voice, "Lee Jordan. Lee took a job this week as their announcer. He sent me an owl saying that they were looking for a backup. He talked to someone and they said I can come in on Wednesday and they'll put me through the motions."

"Just try not to be nervous," Ginny offered. "You play so terribly when you're nervous."

"Speaking of. Harry do you have any Felix. . ." Ron leaned toward Harry.

"You don't need it, you never did," Harry shook his head. "You'll be brilliant, Ron. You'll get it, you'll see."

"Well, they are the worst team in the League," Ginny couldn't resist a jab at Ron's favorite team.

"Not anymore," her brother retorted quickly.

The rest of lunch was spent in the familiar banter, a sound which Harry had come to recognize as the sound of family.

Harry returned to Grimmauld Place to find that Kreacher had his paper and his owl post waiting for him in the sitting room with clean pajama bottoms and evening slippers.

"Kreacher," Harry called after he changed clothes and settled down into the armchair.

Kreacher apparated into the room. "Master called,"

"Here Kreacher, I brought you a plate of fish and chips."

Kreacher's eyes went wide and his long droopy nose lifted. "For me, Master?"

"Yes, you rest tonight. Thank you for all you do, Kreacher."

"Master is too kind, Sir." Kreacher answered and backed out of the room.

Harry picked up the Sunday edition of the Prophet. The front page was dominated by politics. It seemed that every appointee Kingsley named to office was met with vehement opposition, mostly from Dolores Umbridge and her cronies. Harry flipped through the pages, scanning the headlines and looking at the ads. He read the comics on the first page of the entertainment section but his brow furrowed at a headline on the second page of that section. There was a spread on Rita Skeeter. Harry could hardly stand to look at her fake smile. Curiosity got the better of him. It was better to know what she was up to than to be blindsided by it, he supposed.

The Prophet: So, Miss Skeeter, you're last book, the biography of Albus Dumbledore was a raging success. Can you tell us what you are following it up with?

Skeeter: Thank you. Yes, the book was a great success. And Dumbledore was a fascinating subject. It will be hard to follow that one, but I am working on another biography that should be just as enlightening and even more entertaining.

The Prophet: More entertaining? Oh, do tell Miss Skeeter. Is it Harry Potter?"

Skeeter: Oh now, even better. It is going to be an intimate look at another Headmaster of Hogwarts. Severus Snape.

The Prophet: But it is said that few people knew Professor Snape well, where are you getting your source material?

Skeeter: I have my ways. I am hoping to have it on the shelves in time for the Christmas holidays.

The working title is Severus Snape: Villain or Valentine?

The Prophet: Valentine? Oh, do tell, do tell, Miss Skeeter.

Skeeter: Now, now, you'll have to wait for the book.

Harry's stomach turned over. This couldn't be good. Harry had never heard anyone talk about Snape having any significant others. Apparently, he'd only ever loved his Lily. Had Skeeter somehow found out? Who could be talking to her? Classmates? Professors? Who? Then again, it might not be about his mum at all. Skeeter was notorious for making stuff up. Maybe she saw an opportunity to write a scandalous book about Snape knowing that he wasn't around to defend himself.

Harry folded up his newspaper and tossed it aside. Flashes of images from the pensieve flooded his brain. Then they were joined by Snape's memories from Harry's failed Occlumency lessons. Harry remembered that Lily had run to Snape's defense. She'd cared about him. Harry could see how much it had hurt her when Snape had called her a filthy mudblood. Damn Rita Skeeter for making him think about all of that again.

Trying to keep his mind off of his mum and Snape, Harry looked through the post. It was filled mostly with advertisements announcing some of the new shops opening in Diagon Alley. There was also a flyer from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes offering twenty percent off orders of ten sickles or more. It surprised Harry to find a letter from Gringotts. He'd just been in there at the end of the week. He'd marvelled at how quickly they'd put things back in order. They'd assured him that most of the damage had been cosmetic. But Harry had seen the damage, he'd had a front row seat on the back of a dragon, in his opinion it was a little more than superficial. damage. Still, the only major difference in service that he'd noticed was instead of the track that led into the underground, the vaults (temporarily, if the little orange sign was to be believed) had to be reached by broomstick.

Harry carefully tore the end of the envelope and then turned it up to slide the letter out. He unfolded the paper and began to read.

Would Snape's surprises never end?

GGGGGGG

Dear Mr. Potter,

It has come to our attention that you have been named Professor Severus Snape's inheritor. We ask that you come to Gringotts at your earliest convenience to change his vault into your name. Given that his vault is a high security vault we will also need to take a life scan of you and rearrange the vault's signature configuration.

Sincerely,

Gringotts Wizarding Bank

Diagon Alley

GGGGGGG

Harry wasn't sure just how much more he could take. First he'd inherited Snape's house, and he still needed to make a trip out to Hogwarts to pick up Snape's personal effects and now he was being asked to come to Gringotts. Harry exhaled sharply and shook his head. He just hoped he didn't find anymore surprises that had anything to do with his mother.


	4. Chapter 4

Hidden Memories

Chapter 4

Monday morning found Harry Potter strolling along the banks of the muddy river in Cokeworth. He'd apparated at sunrise in the same spot that he and Ron had the previous week. But instead of walking directly to Spinner's End, Harry crossed the old stone bridge to the other side of town. He found a worn footpath along the river bank on that side of the river. He followed it for awhile, letting his thoughts wander. He imagined his mother playing by the river, skipping rocks with her friends. Harry came to a bend in the river where an old willow tree drooped her many arms over the bank. Her petals fell like teardrops into the water below. Harry followed the trail of one green tear as it landed gently on the water, creating the faintest of ripples. Harry could feel his mother in this place. It was a strong, visceral connection. He looked around half expecting to see her standing there. But, he was still alone.

Turning from the river, Harry walked over the low rise and watched as the town awoke. The men and women of Cokeworth village kissed their significant other's goodbye, made sure their children were strapped safely in their car seats, picked the morning paper up from their driveways, and hurried off to work. Harry wondered when he'd hear back from the Ministry about his job interview. It was hard to believe but soon, Harry would be settling into a life of safe routine. He wasn't complaining, he'd had enough adventure to last a lifetime.

The church bell rang, sending a pair of doves soaring into the air. Harry watched as they circled each other before making their way back to the tiny bell tower as the eighth chime sounded. Sunlight glinted off of a marble rock behind the church. The cemetery sprawled over four or five acres. Harry guess it was where most of the village folk were buried. He decided it was time to find out if his grandparents were buried there.

Once he reached the graveyard, Harry realized that even if his grandparents were resting there, he wouldn't know which plot was theirs. Even if they were the only Evanes in the cemetery, that wouldn't be a guarantee. No one had ever mentioned his mother's parents' names. Aunt Petunia had distanced herself from her family so that she'd vanished into Vernon's. The only visitor's they'd ever had at Privet Dr. were Durselys. Harry had never thought to ask Dumbledore. Snape had never spoken of them. He'd need to remember to ask Professors Slughorn and McGonagall. Harry walked down a couple of rows reading the names of all the departed Muggles. When he turned down the third row, he found the Evanses. But there were multiple graves. Harry wondered if he were related to all of them or any of them. He counted six pairs of Evans graves before his eyes landed on a grey granite slab that read Harry Andrew and Caroline Petunia Evans. It couldn't have been a coincidence that Harry shared the man's first name and his aunt Petunia the woman's middle name. Harry smiled because he believed he'd found his grandparents. He wished he'd brought flowers. Then, he remembered he was a wizard, a wizard of age, a wizard who could use magic at will. Harry pulled his wand from his back pocket and pointed it a blade of grass. Softly he muttered Lilium Alba, and the grass transformed into a beautiful white lily. Harry plucked it and laid it on the granite base just below the inscription that read, "Together, Always."

"Always," Harry whispered. He shook off the memories he'd seen in the pensieve. He didn't need those memories distracting him. He needed to sort through Snape's belongings today and the last thing he wanted was to have to deal with those uncomfortable memories.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry had made his way back to the grimier part of town. As he turned onto Spinner's End, he saw Hargreaves crossing at the other end of the block. He made to wave at him but the realtor seemed to be in a great hurry. He jumped in his car and zoomed around the corner without ever looking Harry's way. Harry thought it a bit curious to find Hargreaves in Spinner's End this early in the morning. If he remembered correctly, Mr. Weasley had said the Hargreaves generally worked out of Birmingham, some fifty miles away. Hargreaves had only been meeting with Harry because of Mr. Weasley's referral. Harry couldn't shake the feeling that whatever had brought Hargreaves to Spinner's End had something to do with Snape's place.

Harry moved more swiftly. Snape's place was as cold and dark as Harry had remembered. He lit his wand and headed straight for the sitting room. He pulled the blinds open flooding the tiny room with daylight.

'Nox,' Harry thought to himself, extinguishing his wand. He tucked it back into his back pocket. Out of curiosity he flipped the switch on the small table lamp. No electricity. He made a mental note to call the utility company. Harry walked into the tiny kitchen. Try as he hard as he could, he just couldn't see Snape cooking! Maybe he'd used it for brewing potions. The image of the Potions master standing in the kitchen dressed head to toe in black and stewing up a pot of Veritaserum brought a bright smile to Harry's face. Harry flicked the switch for the kitchen light, just to be sure it was the electricity and not the little lamp. Nothing happened. Harry pulled the string on the kitchen blind until it slid all the way to the top.

He turned to go back into the sitting room but stopped abruptly. The three wine glasses that he, Ron, and Hargreaves had drank from the previous week were cleaned and lined neatly along the sink. The wine bottle sat next to them with its stopper back in place. Harry blinked. He looked again. How had they gotten there? He was pretty sure that they'd left them in the sitting room. He replayed that day's events in his head. Maybe Ron had cleaned up when he hadn't been looking. Perhaps when Harry had shown Hargreaves out, Ron had stepped into the kitchen and tidied up. Didn't sound much like Ron, but that was the most reasonable explanation.

 _Hardly_ , Harry could almost hear Snape scoffing.

Harry turned and looked into the sitting room. The old frayed armchair sat vacant by the empty fireplace. Harry pulled and pointed his wand at the fireplace. A low fire caught and danced blue to orange. Harry looked back at the rickety table and he could've sworn he remembered leaving the wine bottle there.

Hargreaves. It had to be Hargreaves. He'd been in here. That's what he'd been doing in the area. Snooping around! Harry realized he'd been careless not to cast protective spells all over the place when he and Ron had left.

A flurry of words poured from his mouth as he rectified the situation. When he placed a shocking spell on the doorknob to the front entrance, Harry could almost hear Snape criticize, _Overkill, Potter_.

"Alright, then," Harry called as he came back into the sitting room. "Let's see what we have," Harry started with the bookshelf behind the armchair. As he looked at the leather bound volumes, he wondered if he should just wait for Hermione. He'd thought it would be a good idea for him to go ahead and weed out books he knew he'd want to keep. But, looking at the sheer number was making him wish he'd waited for his friends to help.

He tilted his head and began reading titles: _Advanced Alchemy by Albus Dumbledore_ , _Alchemy for Beginners_ by Lancer Spire, _Alchemy for Lovers_ , by Lana Larue, _Alchemy through the Ages_ by Nicholas Flamel, and _Ancient Alchemists and their Theories_ by Bathilda Bagshot, _Immortality through Alchemy_ by Phareba Kaler. So, Snape had organized them by category. _Apparating across the Continents_ by Hardy King, _Apparating for Beginners_ by Wilkie Twycross, _Apparitions: Ghosts, Shades, Specters, Spirits, and Wraiths_ by Horn Gadney, _Arcane Arts_ by Michelangelo Malfoy. Malfoy! Harry sneered. Yes, he owed his life in part to Narcissa Malfoy but that whole family line just reminded him of Voldemort, it wasn't an association he expected to wear off soon.

Harry had only been through a handful of books and already he was having a difficult time deciding which ones he wanted to keep. The one by Dumbledore he'd keep for purely sentimental reasons. But the ones about History like the Bagshot book could go straight to Hogwarts as far as he was concerned.

Harry pulled down the copy _Immortality through Alchemy_. The binding was solid but the cover turned as if the book had been opened many times. Harry looked at the page, it was underlined and marked much in the same way the Half-Blood Prince's copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ had been. Snape had been an eager and diligent student, Harry had to give him that. Harry turned back to the title page where he expected to find the familiar scrawl of Snape's handwriting laying claim to the copy. Instead he found a brief note.

VVVVVVVVV

Severus,

I trust that this book finds you well. Please accept this as a token of my appreciation of all the information you've passed my way. I find you a most faithful and humble servant. I hope you reconsider the request I made of you regarding the girl. Trust that I have my reasons.

Voldemort

VVVVVVVVV

Harry slammed the book closed and tossed it onto the rickety table as if it had burned him.

 _It's only a book_ , Harry knew that Snape would say. _Don't give it power it doesn't have_.

Still, Harry could barely look at it.

The book, the neat handwriting, hearing his voice as he'd read the words, it all rattled him. Harry walked into the kitchen. He rummaged through the cabinets until he found a tea kettle. He filled it with water, tapped his wand to the side of the kettle and searched the pantry for tea bags.

As Harry sipped on his cup of tea, he ambled through the sitting room looking at the pictures on the wall and the other mostly Muggle artifacts that decorated the room. Harry thought the house had seen a lot of sadness. He supposed it shouldn't surprise him that Snape had come from an abusive household. He was always so controlled and contained. Wasn't that what abused children learned to do, contain themselves until they nearly disappeared into their surroundings. It was a survival mechanism. It was odd that there were no pictures of the young Severus on the wall, Harry thought. Maybe they'd been there once but Snape would've probably taken them down when he inherited his parents' home. Harry pictured a framed photo of a snaggle-toothed six year old. He couldn't help but chuckle.

Harry turned to look at the objects resting on the mantlepiece. Blue flames sputtered in the space below. The wooden candlesticks still held white tapers. The wax drips would have been witness to Snape's last visit home. Harry blinked back tears from his green eyes. A wooden clock sat in the center, it didn't appear to be working properly. Harry wondered what kind of battery it needed. He tuned it over and was surprised at the logo emblazoned at the bottom. H. A. Evans, Clockmaker. Harry wondered if the Evanses had given the clock to the Snapes or if Lily had given it to Severus.

He placed the clock back on the mantle with great care and looked at the print behind it before moving on to the old binoculars. They looked innocuous but Harry felt the magical energy thrumming through them as soon as he laid hands on them. He brought the binoculars up to his glasses but could see nothing but blackness. He checked the front of them to make sure there were not caps over them. Finding nothing to stop the light from coming in, Harry tried them again. Again, only darkness. He rolled the focus hoping that that might help, but it did nothing.

Harry considered putting the binoculars back on the mantle but then a half-remembered conversation flitted through his mind. Harry pulled out his wand, then held the binoculars out in front of him, and called, "Reveal your secrets." Tiny gold sparks dances across the eyepieces. Harry waited for them to stop sparking and then moved the binoculars toward his eyes again. But suddenly, a gush of air blew down the chimney causing the blue flames to jump around. Then, with a loud pop, a secret stairway opened up behind one of the bookshelves. Startled but excited by the discovery, Harry sat the binoculars back on the mantle and headed up the creaky staircase.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry pulled his wand and called, "Lumos," as he climbed the secret staircase. The steps ended abruptly at an old oaken door. The knob was rusted dark red with age. The door was locked. Harry noticed the skeleton keyhole. He pulled the keyring he'd inherited from Snape out of his pants pockets. He tried the two keys that looked as if they'd fit, but neither of them worked.

Harry put the keys away, then directed his wand at the knob, " _Alohomora_ ,"

There was a soft click as the tumblers disengaged. Harry slipped his wand back into his pocket and reached for the knob. Before his fingers landed on the round knob, he heard the tumblers click into place again. He tried the knob just to be sure. It didn't turn.

He pulled his wand again. Guessing there must be some sort of timed charm on the door, he decided that he'd have to move more quickly. " _Alohomora_."

The lock clicked. But as Harry's hand touched the cold metal he heard the tumblers moving again. The relocking had happened much faster than the last time. It couldn't have been a timed charm. If Harry didn't know better, he'd swear someone was there, locking it as he unlocked it.

With determination, Harry pointed his wand again, this time leaving his hand on the knob. " _Alohomora_." The lock gave and Harry turned. He had the door open before he heard a whispered, " _Colloportus_ ," and then the door re-locking. Harry searched the room. Where had the voice come from? Someone or something was trying to keep him out of the room.

There was no one in the room except for Harry. Harry looked back toward the stairway. The door slammed shut. A ghost? Tobias Snape, maybe? As far as Harryk new, ghosts in the wizarding world were visible, at least to wizards. It couldn't be Severus or Eileen Prince, Harry would see them, wouldn't he?

Harry padded across the room and opened the window blinds. The room was even more spartan than Harry would've pictured. A single bed sat in the center of the room. It wasn't even a proper bed, it was only large enough for one person and it was little more than a thin mattress on a rustic wooden frame. One bedside table also made of wood sat beside the bed. It had one tiny drawer with a black handle. A surprisingly modernlooking book lay on the table next to a black reading lamp. The only other object in the room was a long two drawer dresser made of gray wood. It's round pull knobs were made of the same drab wood. A black bag with a silver zipper lay on top of the dresser. Harry could see Snape in this space. The only touch of color was a green blanket with silver trimming folded at the foot of the bed. The room was sad and suffocating. Harry opened the window to let in some fresh air.

Harry took a deep breath of air and looked the room over again. Why would anyone have wanted to keep Harry out of here? There was nothing to see. Harry ambled over to the dresser and picked up the black leather bag. The zipper opened easily, revealing toiletries. Harry pulled them out one by one. A silver razor, a tiny packet of replacement blades, shaving foam, a green toothbrush, a tiny tube of toothpaste, a small packet of shampoo. Harry grinned. Ron would be shocked to learn that Snape actually had washed his hair. Harry realized that the bag meant that Snape had approached summers much the way Harry had, as a necessary but unwelcomed vacation from his real home, Hogwarts. Harry meticulously re-packed the items and then somberly re-zipped the bag. Snape would never again use it. Harry swallowed hard and turned to the bed.

He sat on the side of the bed and was shocked to find that the thin mattress was actually quite comfy. Harry looked at the book on the bedside table. It was a Muggle book which sort of shocked Harry. The _Complete Works of E.E. Cummings_. So, was that what Snape considered light reading, an American poet? Harry opened to the bookmark and read the poem he found there.

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in

my heart) I am never without it (anywhere

I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart(I carry it in my heart)

Harry closed the book. He understood exactly why the poem had appealed to Snape. Harry

wondered what Snape's Slytherin students would have thought about the image of their

beloved house head sitting alone in this sad room pining over a lost love.

Harry put the book back down and opened the drawer to the nightstand. It was empty save

for a quill, a bottle of black ink, and a letter opener with an S monogram at the top of the hilt. Harry wasn't sure if the S stood for Snape or Slytherin.

A warm breeze drifted in through the open window. Harry turned and looked outside. The row houses which sat on the opposite side of the street we as run down as the ones on Snape's side. Harry remembered how miserable his summers at Privet Drive had been and thought that Snape's summers here must have been just as abysmal.

Remembering the binoculars, Harry decided it was time to go back downstairs. He'd seen enough of Snape's depressing bedroom. As he stood up however, he felt the floor board under his right trainer give, slightly. He looked down, then pressed against the board. He hadn't imagined it, it slid a bit. The floor board was loose from the rest. An image of his own hiding place at the Dursely's came to his mind. Harry stood up, scooted the bed toward the window, and then knelt down. There wasn't enough room to fit his fingers between the boards, so he tried pressing down on one end hoping the other would pop up. No luck. He'd need something with a thin edge. As he was pulling the key ring from his pocket, he remembered the drawer.

Harry opened the nearby table and retrieved the letter opener. He slid the long, thin blade down into the crevice and wiggled the board free. The hole was deeper than Harry had expected and he coughed from the cloud of dust he'd disturbed. Harry pointed his wand at the hole, the tip of if lit up brightly. A long legged spider crawled out of the hole and scampered across the floor. Harry peered down into the opening. He jutted his wand further down and light bounced off a square red biscuit tin. "Wingardium Leviosa," Harry called and the tin floated toward him.

Harry held the box in his hands, contemplating. He felt like Pandora. He knew once he opened the box, it could not be unopened. Whatever secrets Snape had tried to contain in the little biscuit tin would be forever revealed. Should he look? Would he be invading Snape's privacy? Harry couldn't even claim to have need of the information. It wasn't as if knowing what was in the tin could help him defeat Voldemort the way Snape's other memories had. No, these were private, hidden secrets.

Harry's curiosity nudged him to open the box. The contents might have nothing to do with his mum at all, he reasoned. Maybe Snape had just hidden biscuits. Maybe his folks didn't like him having sweets.

Harry shook the tin. Sounded like papers. Nothing heavy or clunky, not likely to be any biscuits, Harry decided.

The doorknob rattled, the door swung open. The draft sent the window blinds popping. The pages of the poetry book flipped open.

Harry looked at the doorway, there was no one there. He closed his fingers around the edge of the tin lid and pulled.

 _Just like your father_ , Harry looked up at the doorway again. He could've sworn he'd heard Severus Snape, but the space was empty.

Harry set the opened box on the floor in front of him. A stack of letters bound in a pretty green ribbon stared back at him. The top letter which had clearly come by owl post was addressed simply to Severus Snape, Spinner's End.

When he went to untie the ribbon, Harry saw that it was frayed and worn as if it had been unraveled many times. Harry went through the envelopes one by one, not surprised that the handwriting was the same on each piece. Harry knew the handwriting, he'd seen it in Sirius' bedroom. He didn't have to pull a single letter out to know that his mother had written all of the letters to Snape. Harry counted them, twenty two.

Harry put them back in the tin and moved away from the box. He shouldn't read them. But he couldn't throw them out. What was he going to do? A thought occurred to him. He'd have Ginny read them and then she could tell him if he should read them.

But his longing for his mother got the better of him. Here, sat a piece of her life, a life that was ripped from him. The need to know her overwhelmed him, he pulled one letter from its envelope.

LLLLLLL

Sev,

I can't believe they've suspended you. When is your inquiry? I'm going to ask Dumbledore permission to come to the Ministry and stand with you. It isn't the same here without you. The train ride was lonely. Potter and his gang are being jerks as usual. I was so excited about going to Hogsmeade with you, hopefully your suspension will be lifted before then. I know they will acquit you, they have to. It wasn't your fault. It was an emergency. I'll tell them what he was like. They'll have to listen to us. Is your mother testifying for you? She has to. Please write soon, I haven't seen you since August 31st! Why didn't you come see me off? It hurt my feelings, you know? I'm going crazy missing you.

With Love,

Lily

LLLLLLLL

With Love? Harry's stomach started groaning. He wondered what Snape could've done. It must've had something to do with his father and probably underage magic if Snape had been suspended. Harry gave the letter a few minutes to sink in before he picked up the others. He guessed his mother must've been about thirteen in the first letter since she was taking her first trip to Hogsmeade. Harry rifled through the letters and chose one closer to the top.

When Harry opened the letter, a photograph fell onto the floor. He read the back before picking up the picture. Harry James Potter, Three Witches Wizard Hospital for Women. Harry turned the photo over. He was only hours old. Harry pulled out his wallet and tucked the photo inside. He didn't think Snape would mind. In fact, he was surprised that Snape had kept the photo at all. Harry unfolded the letter.

LLLLLLLL

My Dearest Severus,

I hope this letter finds you well, As I am sure you have no doubt heard by now. James and I welcomed our son into the world. We've named him Harry for my father. I've sent you a photo. Some say he has my eyes, I think it's too early to tell.

I've tried reaching out to you on a couple of occasions. You're ignoring me, which I don't appreciate. I know my decision to marry James hurt you. But so did your decision to follow Malfoy, Avery, and Mulciber. I mean really, Sev. A Death Eater? You are so much better than that. You are capable of compassion and intense love. Why do you insist on following Voldemort down that dark path? What good can come of it? He speaks of immortality, of pain, or power. What care you about power, Severus? The man I loved couldn't have cared less about those

things. Where did he go? There was a light in you once. I need to know that it hasn't been extinguished.

Please, let me know how you are doing.

With the deepest concern,

Lily.

LLLLLLLL

Harry didn't wait, he tore into the next letter.

LLLLLLLL

Sev,

Please, please. It's been three weeks since I sent my last letter. I need to hear from you. Rumors are flying. Your name is often on people's lips and not in a pleasant way.

With love always,

Lily

LLLLLLLLLL

Harry moved on to the next letter

LLLLLLLLL

Severus Snape,

The Cruciatus Curse! I don't want to believe the things I am hearing about you but as you refuse to answer me one way or another, I am starting to accept that you have given yourself over to your Dark Lord (which I say with the utmost contempt possible). Why are you doing this? Is this because of James. I only turned to him because you kept moving down this damned path you seem hell bent on. I find it impossible to believe that your hands which once held me in love now do unspeakable things in the name of Voldemort.

Severus, please, if I ever meant anything to you. If you ever loved me, the way I loved you, then for God's sake agree to meet me. I can come to Spinner's End. Just say when.

Daring to hope,

Lily

LLLLLLL

Harry didn't know if he should continue reading. Already too much had been revealed. What had she meant by Snape touching her with love? Would she have chosen Snape over his father if Snape hadn't chosen Voldemort first? What a different world that might have been. Harry would never have been born. There might never have been any prophecy and even if there had been, Snape wouldn't have overheard it and ran to his master. Harry's mind reeled with a million scenarios. Even though he'd meant to quit reading, His fingers seem to work on their own accord. Harry pulled open the letter than had been sitting at the top of the pile.

LLLLLLL

Severus,

You may think me a coward for asking this of you. But James can never know. It would break his heart. I won't say it was a mistake, because it didn't feel like a mistake. But Severus, it was good-bye. I can't live between two worlds. It wouldn't be fair to my son, hard to believe he will be one in less than a month. I knew there was still love in you. I hope you can take what we shared and know that you are capable of great love. You should have a family of your own Severus. Leave Voldemort. Forget the Death Eaters. They can never offer you the strongest power in the world, Sev. The power of love. You already have that within.

Love Always,

Lily \

LLLLLLL

Harry dropped the letter. He was going to be sick. His mother had cheated on his father, with Snape.

Harry bounded down the steps, across the sitting room, down the hallway and out the front door. It was only as he was apparating at the river bank that he realized that he'd brought along the biscuit tin with the letters.


	6. Chapter 6

Hidden Memories

Chapter 6

When Harry appeared on the front step of 12 Grimmauld Place, he was shocked to find Dudley Dursley walking along the sidewalk. Harry approached his behemoth of a cousin cautiously. He'd heard through the grapevine that his family members had made it through the war safely but he hadn't bothered to check in on them at Privet Drive.

Dudley's face was screwed up at the houses. He looked confused.

"I suppose you are looking for me," Harry called out to Dudley.

Dudley turned abruptly. "Harry."

"Dudley."

"I can't find it."

"Find what?" Harry knew, of course, that he was referring to 12 Grimmauld Place.

"The house numbers are off."

"Wizarding trick, Dudley. Did you need something?"

"So, it's here, somewhere?"

"Of course it is," Harry knew that manners dictated that he invite his cousin in. But when had the Dursley's ever cared about etiquette where Harry was concerned? But Harry gave in, he shrugged his shoulders, "Would you like to come in?"

"Love to," Dudley smiled in awe.

Harry smiled back. Great! Dudley was starting to grow on him.

"You've got biscuits. Could I have one?" Dudley pointed to the red tin.

"Sorry, it's -um- actually not biscuits at all. But I have some inside. Here take my hand," Harry gave his slender hand over to Dudley's massive paw.

Before they reached the door, there was a loud crack behind them. Dudley looked as if he nearly crapped his pants when Ron appeared out of thin air. "Wicked," he mouthed silently.

"Sorry Mate, didn't realize you had company." Ron grinned sheepishly.

"It's alright, Ron. We were just heading in for some tea. I'm sure Dudley won't mind you joining us." Harry's looked dared Dudley to contradict him.

"The more the merrier," Dudley stammered but Harry could tell he was worried that a big old dish of payback stew was about to be served to him for all the times Dudley and his friends had ganged up on Harry.

The three of them entered the house and Ron noticed that the apparition of Dumbledore no longer begged for an answer. "Hey, what happened to. . "

"I figured out the counter charm. Now this place is only protected by the Fidelius Charm."

"Ah," Ron replied then asked. "You been to Cokeworth, today?"

"Later," Harry didn't want to discuss anything in front of Dudley.

"Sure," Ron caught Harry's drift.

Harry invited Ron and Dudley to have a seat. Dudley sat down but then quickly shot of the sofa when Kreacher apparated into the room carrying a tray with a tea kettle and three cups. "Is Master expecting more guests?"

"It's okay, Dudley, he won't bite." Harry said calmly.

"At least not hard," Kreacher whispered in Dudley's direction. The elf felt an instant dislike of the young man.

"Kreacher," Harry reprimanded gently. "Just leave the tea service, and thank you."

"Ginny's coming in a bit and maybe Hermione," Ron called.

"Kreacher will bring more cups."

"You have a slave?" Dudley looked bug-eyed after the elf as he turned down the hallway.

"He's a house elf and no, he isn't a slave."

"A servant?" Dudley queried.

Harry didn't know how to explain it without it sounding exactly like slavery. Maybe Hermione was right. Harry decided the best course of action was to just change the subject. "So, Dudley, what brings you here?"

"Well, I wanted to say thank you. You know for making sure we were looked after and all. That was real big of you, I mean. . .after all. . .you know. . . the stuff."

"Yeah, I know. It's okay. We are okay. How's Aunt Petunia?"

 _Still an uptight twit_ , Harry heard a voice that was remarkable close to Snape's whisper. Harry looked to Ron and Dudley but neither of them seemed to have heard a thing.

"Mum's okay. She's glad you're okay. She doesn't say it but I know she's thinking it."

"Well, I'm glad she's okay, too," Harry didn't really know what to say. His feelings for Petunia were not warm but he didn't wish ill on anyone.

"Is your wizard school finished? Will you be coming back to Privet Drive, ever?"

"I'm finished with school. Actually looking for a job. And, for now, this place is home. I'm done with Privet Drive." Harry couldn't keep the disgust from his voice.

There was a knock at the front door. Harry heard Kreacher scurrying to answer. Then he heard the sweetest voice. "Hello Kreacher, is Harry home?" Ginny Weasley asked.

"Right this way, ladies," Kreacher called. "I'll bring you beauties tea."

"Why thank you, Kreacher," Harry heard Hermione's pleased reply.

The two girls were as surprised to find Dudley in their company as Ron had been.

Ginny leaned into to Hermione's ear, "Isn't he the git?"

Hermione smiled brightly and gently elbowed Ginny. The Weasleys! No one had bothered to teach them tact. Hermione extended her hand to Dudley. "Good to see you."

Dudley shook Hermione's hand and it was obvious that he appreciated her beauty. Harry saw Ron's cheeks turn red with jealousy. Harry knew his friend was going to have to get control of his little green monster. Hermione had shaped up to be a gorgeous young woman. Men were going to notice.

Ginny and Hermione sat on the sofa with Dudley as Harry and Ron had taken up the two armchairs. Hermione noticed the biscuit tin sitting on the table next to Harry.

"What's in the old tin?"

Harry looked around at all of their faces. He'd been trying to forget the letters. Revealing his mum's secrets to even his closest friends felt like sort of a betrayal. "It's nothing," Harry lied.

Ginny squinted at him. She knew better. But she let it go.

"It's from Snape's isn't it?" Hermione asked. Apparently Hermione knew better too.

"Snape? Severus Snape?" Dudley asked.

They all turned to look at Dudley in utter amazement.

"You know Snape?" Harry asked.

"Only that my mum hates him." Dudley answered. "And your mum used to . . .well . . .you know. . .have a thing for him." Dudley squirmed.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all looked at Harry expecting him to deny the accusation. Maybe even curse Dudley. They all knew, by now, that Snape had harbored strong feelings for LIly but they weren't aware that the feelings had been reciprocated.

Hermione's hand went to her wand on instinct. Just in case, she needed to counter a jinx.

Harry took a deep, steadying breath. "Yes, I suppose my mum did have a thing for him, as you say."

Shock turned to horror on Ron's face, "Snape?! Ewww."

"Oh, I don't know, there was something quite handsome about him," Ginny defended the dead professor.

Ron and Harry looked at her as if she'd lost all her senses.

"What?" Ginny shook her head. "Well, Hermione at least you agree."

"Well, he was, I suppose - - -rather - - uh- -dignified."

"Dignified," Ron nearly spat his tea.

"Women like the dangerous type, at least that what my mum said." Dudley took another cookie from the tray.

"When did Aunt Petunia tell you all of this, Dudley?"

"When we were in hiding. She had all sorts of stories. But most of them were about your mum and Snape and how much she hated them. How they supposedly tormented her. How he'd gotten darker and darker over the years until Lily had to let him go. She even said - -well, nevermind."

He clearly had remember something that would have been too uncomfortable to reveal.

"No, go ahead," Harry prompted. Nothing could be worse than what he'd already discovered in the letters. Infidelity.

"No, mate. I should just shut up. Besides it's my mum talking. She was probably blowing things outta proportion, ya know."

"I know. So, what did she say?"

"Mate, really." Dudley tried to wiggle out of the corner.

"I need to know." Harry leaned forward. And as he did he felt an oppressive weight over his shoulder as if there was a heavy cape hovering over him. A cape that was as eager to hear Petunia's opinions as he was.

"Well, she said that your mum only went for you dad to get back at Snape, her one true love. Sorry, Harry."

The weight suddenly lifted off of Harry and the room felt ten degrees warmer.

"It's okay, Dudley." Harry picked up the tin and sat it in his lap. He wouldn't normally have been so open with Dudley in the room but something about his cousin had changed and Harry couldn't hate him. And Dudley probably knew more about his mother's relationship with Snape than he even did, if Harry knew Petunia's big mouth, especially when she felt put out. And going into hiding had certainly made her feel put out. Harry could just see her railing all last year about LIly and Snape and the freaks they both were. Harry's hand roved over the top of the lid. The he looked to his friends. "This is full of letters. Letters written by my mother. They are to Snape."

Ron's eyes went wide and he gasped audibly.

"Are you okay?" Ginny reached across the space that separated them and placed a comforting hand on his knee.

"I haven't read them all. I'm not sure I can. I've read enough to -." He couldn't finish. How could he reveal his mother's betrayal.

"I'm sure whatever you mum and Snape had it was nothing compared to what your mum and dad had," Hermione tried to reassure Harry but the cold had returned abruptly to the room and Hermione's words had done little to help.

"I'm not so sure, Hermione. I think she was in love with Snape, deeply. I think if he hadn't joined the Death Eaters, I might not even be sitting here with you all now."

"It couldn't been that serious, I mean. . . Snape," Ron looked absolutely thunderstruck.

"It's here in the letters," Harry looked at the tin. "I don't know if I can stand to read any more of them but the need to know is digging at me."

"If you'd like, one of us could read them first," Hermione offered.

Hadn't he considered the same thing earlier? Why did it feel intrusive now that Hermione was suggesting it? Harry gripped the tin tighter. Ginny noticed and sat back into the sofa giving him more room. "Maybe we should all just leave Harry alone."

"Thanks Ginny. But no, I don't want to be alone right now. I think Hermione is right. Would you mind helping me with the letters?" He held the tin out to her.

"Sure," Ginny answered. It warmed her heart that he trusted her to be the one to look at his mother's private correspondence.

Ginny reached for the tin but when her hand made contact, sparks of silver lightning danced across the tin causing her to drop it onto the floor. "Ouch," she cried.

"Are you alright?" Ron jumped forward and without thinking tried to move the tin out of the way. Shocks wracked his body.

"Ron, don't touch it. It obviously has a charm on it. Harry you were able to open it? Without using a spell?" Hermione asked.

"Yes." Harry picked the tin up, nothing happened.

"Put it on the floor," Hermione said excitedly. She always loved solving a puzzle.

Harry placed the tin in the center of the room. He looked to make sure Ginny was okay. She was clenching and unclenching her fist but otherwise looked no worse for the wear. Ron grimaced but also looked okay.

Hermione pointed her wand at the metal box, "Alohomora." Nothing happened. "Hmm," She reached out tentatively and touched the tin. It zapped her. She tapped it with her wand, energy sizzled up the wood which intrigued her. "Powerful magic," she whispered. She looked at Dudley. "You try."

Dudley looked for all the world that he would rather ride a rampaging elephant than touch the biscuit box. He sank deeper into the sofa willing himself to disappear.

"Don't be a git," Ron grumbled. "Touch it."

Dudley looked at Harry pleadingly.

"They both survived," Harry responded.

"But they're, they're like you. It might kill me," he reasoned.

"That's highly doubtful," Hermione scoffed. He really was a git. "Just do it."

Dudley sat forward and stared at the tin. Harry toed it closer to him. Dudley closed his eyes and reached forward with one index finger. He felt the cold metal.

"What?" Ron yelled. "How come he can touch it?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a bloodline charm."

 _Always the clever girl_ , Harry heard the deep voice again. Harry thought he might be losing his mind. He surveyed the room. Snape was nowhere.

Dudley opened his eyes and easily popped the lid from the tin. The letters with their neat penmanship lay exposed for all of his friends to see. Harry picked the box up and pulled out the ones he knew he'd already read and sat them aside. From the seventeen letters that remained, he pulled from the bottom and handed the letter to Ginny.

Ginny took the envelope and with delicate hands pulled out the letter. She read it silently to herself. It must've been short because she looked up after no time. And read in her sweet voice.

Sev,

I really wish you'd come home for Christmas Break. It's snowed here. I'm cooped up with Petunia. If you were here we could make snow angels and have a snowball fight. How's Hogwarts? Do you miss me? Hope you like the quill and ink set I bought you. See you in January.

Your friend,

Lily.

"There not all that innocent," Harry said the at askant looks on his friends' faces.

Ginny looked at Harry to see if she should continue.

When he nodded, she opened another letter. After a minute, she read:

Sev,

Dumbledore says that I may accompany him Tuesday next to the Ministry for your trial. With any luck at all, you'll be coming back to Hogwarts with us. That is my constant prayer.

Lily

"He was suspended. Underage magic, I think." Harry informed.

"Must've been when his dad was offed." Dudley said.

Harry looked at Dudley with interest, they all did. Dudley blushed from the attention. They were actually interested in something he had to say.

"Well?" Hermione prodded.

"Well, his mum killed his Dad. At least that's what the police thought. My mum thinks Snape did it but she hates him so, of course she thinks that. Anyway, there was a big trial, a circus in Cokeworth to hear my mum tell it. The wife was sentenced to life."

"Wait, what?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, even though there had been a history of abuse, life in prison."

Harry added the math in his head . She would be old but she could still be living. Harry grabbed the letters back from Ginny and dropped them into the tin. .

"Harry!" She jumped.

"Sorry, but we have to find out if she's still there. I need to talk to her."

 _Potter!_ Came the disembodied voice.


	7. Chapter 7

After a brief discussion, it was decided that they could cover more ground if they split up. Ron and Hermione were to go to the Ministry of Magic and get copies of the transcript of Snape's inquiry, if possible. None of them were quite sure if the record would be sealed given that Snape had been a minor. Harry and Ginny's task was to go to the records office in Cokeworth and fight out everything they could about the Muggle trial and hopefully where exactly Eileen Prince had been incarcerated. Much to his dismay, Dudley got the boring task of heading back to Private Drive and grilling Petunia for more information.

As they sat in a tiny room waiting for the clerk to bring them the documents they requested, Harry whispered to Ginny, "Did you notice anything strange at Grimmauld Place?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it, what's up with Kreacher? Why is he being so helpful?"

Harry had been talking about the Snape voice, of course, but didn't want to sound completely daft. "Oh that, well he's sorta accepted me as master of the house, so his loyalties have shifted."

"Well, that's good."

"I suppose," Harry shrugged, "but I meant something else? Did you notice anything weird?"

"Yeah, it was weird having Dudley there and him being nice."

"Yeah," Harry drummed his fingertips on the table impatiently. Obviously, Ginny hadn't sensed Snape at all.

"Why? Was there something I should have noticed? You mean with the letters?"

"No, it's nothing." Harry was thankful that the short little man returned with the trial transcripts at that moment.

There was only one folder, which Harry thought odd for a murder trial.

Harry flipped back the cover and soon discovered that Eileen had confessed to the crime about halfway through the proceedings. Harry searched the pages looking for her sentencing records. But he stopped suddenly when he came across the photos of Tobias Snape's corpse.

"Wow, he really took after his father," Ginny said, looking at the dead man and his long greasy locks.

But it wasn't the likeness that had caught Harry's attention, but the wounds. Harry knew the pattern. That particular splicing of the body hadn't been caused by and machete as Eileen had claimed. No. Harry knew who'd killed Tobias Snape and he knew exactly how he'd done it. The Sectumsempra Curse!

"Harry, you okay?" Harry's face had lost all of its color.

Harry didn't answer, his eyes were glued to the photo.

"Harry?"

"Fine." He moved past the photo and perused a few more pages before finding what he was looking for. "There," he pointed to the name of the prison. "I wonder what time visitation is?"

As it turned out, Harry wouldn't be able to see Eileen until Wednesday. So, he and the others agreed to meet for diner at a small diner near Privet drive.

"Mum thought it was curious that I was asking so many questions about your world. She wouldn't give. Especially with Dad glaring at her." Dudley said as he tore into his sandwich.

Hermione pulled a thick packet of papers from her sling bag. Then went back in for seconds. When she finished piling the files on the table, Harry gawked at the three stacks. He could just see Hermione's face from her nose up, the papers obstructed his view so.

"That much?" Ginny, remembering to thin folder she and Harry had seen in Cokeworth, was surprised by the dearth of maternal

"The inquiry lasted four two weeks and look, " she flipped through the pages, most of it was blacked out.

"I hope you didn't spend a lot of money printing those," Dudley thought the pages were as unfruitful as was his interrogation of his mother.

"I'm going to work on a spell to see if I can get past the mark outs." Hermione defended her decision to print the pages. Harry got the feeling that she'd already had the same argument with Ron. Harry wasn't sure if he didn't quite Agee with the boys on this one. Still, he pulled his wand and making sure that no one in the restaurant was looking, he whispered, "reveal your secrets."

The wizard and the two witches looked at him incredulously. But Dudley looked at the papers as if he expected words to start flying off the page.

To Harry's chagrin, nothing happened.

"Seriously Mate, you don't think we already tried that." Ron felt offended.

That evening, Harry returned to Grimmauld Place alone. He'd been hoping for a bit of alone time with Ginny but Rom had taken her back to the Burrow.

Ron had spent dinner hinting that he and Harry should room together. Harry got the distinct feeling that Ron wanted to move into Grimmauld Place with him. Harry knew if that happened, he'd never get Ginny to himself. As he made his way up the old staircase to his room, Harry said a little prayer that the Chudley Cannons would sign Ron to a lengthy contract.

Harry had brought the biscuit tin to the bedroom with him. He put it on the nightstand and tried to put it out of his mind. He slipped into his pajamas and placed his glasses on top of the tin. He pulled the silver beaded string on the table lamp and let the darkness engulf him. Harry let his mind drift to the memory of lazily strolling the fields near the Burrow with Ginny. He could almost hear the birds overhead but then he realized the screeching was coming from his room.

He hastily turned on the little lamp and looked across the room. He'd forgotten to let his new owl, Mortimer, out for his evening hunt. "Sorry buddy," Harry opened the bedroom window then released his tawny owl. Harry leaned against the window sill and watched Mortimer flap his broad wings over the backyard and soar out across the town. He knew he wouldn't see the creature before morning.

When he returned to the bed, the shiny tin caught his eye. "Oh whatever." Frustration got the better of him. He put his glasses back on and pulled off the lid and went directly to the un-read letter that sat at the very top of the pile.

Sev,

I asked my mum and dad, they said it would be fine for you to go to the carnival with us. You're going to love it so much. I can't believe you've never been. You'll ride all the rides with me, won't you? And do the funhouse? Tuney's such a stick in the mud, she'll never do the funhouse with me. Ask your dad straight away.

See you tomorrow morning at the tree.

Lily

Harry released a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. That one hadn't been so bad. He guessed they'd been rather young. He also realized that Snape's crush must have started very early on in their relationship. Otherwise, why would he have kept all the letters? Harry picked up the next envelope.

Sev,

Tuney's got a boyfriend. And Dad is letting her go on a date! I am excited for her, if a bit envious. I mean I'm 14 and no boy has even ever asked me out. Well, except James Potter, that git! Seriously, I pity whatever idiot girl give into him. He's so full of himself. He's nothing like 're so kind and considerate. Not boastful in the least and your marks are better than his. I bet you'd even be better at Quidditch. You always beat me in broom races. And, you are amazing with your hands, I mean nobody is better at potions than you. And you the way you handle your wand! Anyway. Do you think anyone will ever ask me out?

With Love,

Lily

Harry wondered how more obvious his mum could have been. "The way you handle your wand!" Really! Gross! One a second glance at the letter, Harry saw that she had signed her name with a little heart over the i. Snape must have been clueless that his affections were returned for her to have to spell it out to him like that. Even more, she was essentially telling him that she preferred him over the most popular boy in school

Harry dared to move on to the next letter. As he unfolded the note, a strip of photographic paper fell into his lap. Jotted across the back in his mother's handwriting were the words: Here are you copies. I love you.

Harry flipped the strip over. They were a series of four shots taken in a photobooth. They were black and white Muggle pics, unmoving. In the top picture, Snape, already sporting long black hair, and his mother were making fish faces into the camera. In the second picture, his mum made a funny face but Snape had been caught eternally by the camera, looking at Lily. Harry saw the love in his eyes, Snape had lips were cured in the tiniest hint of a smile. Harry guessed the Lily had brought a joy to his life that Snape had never known. In the third picture they held up two spread apart fingers in the sign of peace. But the fourth picture was the one that Harry couldn't stop staring at. Snape had his hands, already large for his age, buried in Lily's red hair. Their lips were glued together and Lily's hand seemed to pull at Snape's neck hungrily. Harry had always coveted every image of his mother that had ever crossed his path. But this one was too much. As he looked at her, he guessed her to be about fifteen, maybe sixteen, he wondered if he'd ever know who his mother had really been in her short twenty-one years of life.

Harry didn't know if he could bear to open the letter. He considered just dropping the photos back into the envelope along with the letter and just trying to go back to bed. But he couldn't. He told himself it couldn't be worse than infidelity. What could be worse than infidelity?

Dear Sev,

Here are your copies of the photos. Last night was amazing. You are amazing. I always dreamed you'd be a good kisser, you certainly didn't disappoint. I am glad I was your first kiss. We have so many things to share together, Sev. I love you. Just think, we will be going back to Hogwarts as boyfriend and girlfriend. I hope we have lots of classes together. You know will have Slughorn together and of course DADA. Herbology maybe. Can you imagine what everyone will say? A Gryffindor and a Slytherin? I don't give a fig! Let them talk.

Sev, I want to talk to you about something but I don't know how to say it in person. I know you love me and you know I love you. And I am so glad you finally asked me out. I really liked kissing you last night but I was wondering don't you want to do more. I mean we were alone for over two hours and all you did was kiss me. I know Lori's already gone to third base with Alan. I am not sure what third base means but I'm pretty sure it's more than kissing. I'm not trying to rush you or anything. I just want you to know if you wanna, you know, touch anything, I'd be okay with that.

Now, I feel silly. Oh well, if this makes things weird, I can always put a Confundus charm on you!

Love you and thinking of sneaking in your window tonight,

Lily

Harry fought the urge to call his mum a tart. God, she really led Snape around by the goodies!

Harry stuffed the photo and letters back into the envelope and put them in the tin. The letter had made him blush as he'd read it. His mum would've been sixteen at the oldest and she was talking about going further with Snape than Harry had ever been with a girl and here he was nearly eighteen years old. Did Ginny want more? Would Ginny welcome his advances the way his mother had been waiting for Snape's? Was he moving too slowly?

He decided he couldn't take anymore of the Snape/Lily saga, so he put the box away and crawled back into bed. He prayed that he wouldn't have vivid dreams of his mum and Snape doing the horizontal dance.


	8. Chapter 8

Hidden Memories

Chapter 8

Tuesday morning, Harry hurried out of the house so he wouldn't have time to contemplate the letters his mother had written Snape. Before he turned the corner at Grimmauld and Gramercy, Mortimer came swooping toward Harry, he was carrying a long envelope.

Harry took the letter from the tawny owl and pointed back toward number 12. "I've left the back window open for you."

Mortimer hooted and flapped his wings before pushing off of Harry's arm, his talons just barely knicking Harry as he took to flight.

Harry knew the Ministry's seal by now. He tore into the envelope. The black ink stood in glaring contrast to the heavy white paper.

Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for an interview with Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic. Please contact his assistant at your earliest convenience to schedule an appointment.

Congratulations,

Darnell Crowle

Office of Human Resources

Ministry of Magic

Harry was elated. He decided he'd make a trip to the Ministry this afternoon to make an appointment after he went to Gringotts about Snape's vault. But first, his growling belly reminded him, he needed breakfast.

Diagon Alley was quieter than usual, Harry thought, as he sat down in a booth for two at Donnelly's. Harry didn't mind eating alone but he couldn't help but wish that Ginny was there with him. He resolved to head out to the Burrow after he took care of all of his business in London.

A rather large waitress lumbered over to Harry's booth. "What're you having?"

"Uh, a glass of pumpkin juice, poached eggs and a muffin, please," Harry's smile was met with a scowl. The waitress clearly wanted to be anywhere but at work. Harry hoped that he wouldn't hate whatever job he ended up taking as much as the waitress clearly hated hers.

Harry looked around at the other diners. An elderly couple sat two booths down from him, enjoying tea. A goblin worked to finish his morning fare at the bar. The only other patron was a woman sitting in the back of the restaurant. Harry couldn't see her face at all because she was nose-deep in the _Daily Prophet_. Still, there was something oddly familiar about her glossy red nails and her high-heeled feet.

Just before she dropped the paper, Harry realized who the woman was. He groaned inwardly as his eyes locked with Rita Skeeter. He smiled politely then looked away, hoping she would take the clue that he didn't want to be bothered. Recalling that she was currently working on a biography of Snape, Harry considered leaving and grabbing breakfast elsewhere.

But when she rose and started walking toward him, he remained glued to his seat.

"Morning, Harry. Eating alone?" She asked as if it were somehow more revealing than it actually was.

"I have a lot of errands to run this morning, Miss Skeeter."

"Oh, I'm sure you have. But you wouldn't mind answering a few questions. . .in the interest of history, would you?" She reached for her notepad.

"I've never really been that interested in history, to be perfectly honest with you," Harry quipped.

The waitress returned with Harry's juice and looked annoyed at Skeeter.

The journalist oblivious to the waitress' agitation asked, "Could you bring my things over, I'll be joining Harry."

Harry opened his mouth to protest. He certainly hadn't asked her to sit, much less stay for breakfast.

"Ma'am," the waitress grumbled and went to get Skeeter's food and the personal items she'd left at the other table.

"Okay, Harry." Skeeter leaned in after she got everything situated just as she wanted it. "As you may know, I am writing a highly anticipated biography of one of your former teachers, Severus Snape."

"Yeah, I read something about that. I'm not sure how I can help you." Harry knew he could tell her enough to curl her toes but he wasn't about to reveal his mother's secrets to the sensationalist.

"Well, it would interest you to know, I'm sure, that it's rumored that your former teacher and Death Eater was also your mum's former boyfriend."

"Rumors, I'm sure," Harry lied.

"I have it on good account and from more than one source that Severus and Lily were quite the item in their fifth year at Hogwarts. Until they had a falling out. And if my sources are to be believed, they still held strong feelings for one another, even after her marriage to your father. Did Professor Snape ever discuss his feelings for LIly with you?"

"What? No."

"It's even rumored that you are perhaps their love child."

"This is ridiculous. I look like my father. Just like." Harry jumped from the booth. He startled the old couple and apologized before sitting back down. "Except my eyes, I have my mother's eyes." Harry added.

"As I said, it is only a rumor. A bit testy, though, about it, aren't you?"

"Look, I know what you do. You take people's words and twist them into some sordid affair. Severus Snape was the bravest man I ever knew and I don't like the idea of you making a mockery out of his memory.

"Hmmm, that's interesting," Rita Skeeter looked at her quill, which was scratching furiously along the notepad. "Would you say that Snape was like a father to you?"

"No. What? He was my teacher."

Skeeter decided to try another angle. "But he was a Death Eater. A close confidant of the Dark Lord."

"When he was young, he followed Voldemort for a brief time. But after that, he was a loyal supporter of Dumbledore and fought for good."

"What do you think prompted his about-face? Could it have been the death of his beloved at the hands of his master?"

"Go! Leave! Out of my booth," Skeeter had hit too close to the truth for Harry's liking.

"Rude," Skeeter had the nerve to look offended, but she got up nonetheless. She left her virtually untouched food sitting on her side of the table and left the restaurant. Harry looked at the wasted food and hoped she'd be starving later in the day. But then he realized that she could probably survive on gossip alone.

Harry was even glad to see the waitress' surly face when she brought out his food. Anything was an improvement of Skeeter's mug.

Harry was still so upset as he walked toward Gringotts that he bumped right into a man. He mumbled an apology without looking up but then turned around when the man called after him, "Harry."

The man was Neville Longbottom. When had he gotten so tall? Had they all become adults without thinking? To Harry's pleasant surprise, Neville was accompanied by another Hogwart's alum, Luna Lovegood. Harry noticed they were holding hands.

"Neville, Luna, good to see you."

"Everything okay, Harry?" Neville's brow furrowed making him look thirty instead of seventeen.

"Ran into Rita Skeeter. Put me in a foul mood."

"Your mum?" Luna got straight to the point. Neville looked as if he wanted to crawl into a corner.

He knew he was in the minority, but Harry always appreciated Luna's directness. He nodded. "It's none of her business how Snape felt about my mother."

"I don't think it's really Snape's feelings that are bothering you, Harry." That time Luna's directness was a little pointed even for Harry's tastes.

"Well, you two have a lovely outing." Harry nodded and continued on his way to Gringotts.

He could hear Luna and Neville behind him.

"Luna, you shouldn't have. It's his mum."

"He's gotta face the truth, hasn't he? It's gonna be everywhere once Skeeter is finished."

"Still," Neville stated.

Harry was glad when they turned the corner.

Picking up his pace, Harry did his best to focus on thoughts of spending the afternoon with Ginny and putting his mum out of his head.

"Harry, Harry," George Weasley called from his storefront.

"Oh hi, George."

"Where are you in such as hurry to get to?"

"Business at Gringotts" Harry called but didn't stop. He didn't even care if he was being rude anymore. He was beginning to welcome the solitude that being in the vault would bring.

"Here, Mate, Cheer up!" George tossed Harry a chocolate frog.

Harry started to tear into the package but then eyed it suspiciously. Knowing George, it was probably some sort of exploding gag. Probably filled with real frog guts or something.

He rolled his eyes and dropped it into his bag. He didn't feel like a joke at the moment.

Gringotts was as lively as ever. Harry had to wait six deep in queue before a goblin was able to help him down to his vault.

"Name's Golster, pleasure meeting you, Mr. Potter," the Goblin bowed dramatically. Harry got the distinct feeling that it wasn't a pleasure at all. In fact, he noticed all the employees were eyeing him suspiciously. But, he supposed after the incident with the dragon, he wasn't exactly their favorite customer. "Are you here to access your private vault, today?"

"No, actually, I am here about this," Harry handed Golster the letter informing that he had inherited Snape's vault. .

"I see, I see. You'll need to head over to account management. It's down that hallway just opposite of us. Room 117, would you like me to escort you?"

"No, that won't be necessary. " Harry took the letter back, pocketed it, and bowed a farewell to Golster. He could hear the goblin tellers whispering behind him as he headed to the accounts office.

Two other customers were waiting ahead of Harry, a middle-aged wizard and an extremely old witch. Harry took the open end of the couch that the witch was sitting on. After a beat and a double-take the blue-haired lady whispered, "My word, you're Harry Potter."

Harry's face had been plastered over the _Daily Prophet_ so much lately that he should've been used to people knowing him on sight, but he wasn't.

"Yes, Ma'am," Harry smiled at the witch.

"Knew your folks, I did," The little witch edged closer to Harry.

"You did?"

"Oh, yes, I used to run The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, well, surely you've been to The Three Broomsticks."

"Yes,"

"Your father and his friends used to hang out there quite a bit. And after your mum and he started seeing each other, in their seventh year, if I remember, she came in and had a few butterbeers, herself."

"I don't remember them much, were they very much in love?" Harry asked.

"Oh, your father adored her. The other boys used to rib him about it quite a bit." The old witch's eyes twinkled at the memory of the inn full of mischievous wizards.

"And my mum, was she crazy about him? He was quite popular."

"Well, I didn't know her quite as well, dear. I only remember her in there a handful of times before she started going with your dad. She was always with the Snape boy. They didn't linger." The woman's twinkling eyes turned dark.

"Because of my father?" Harry knew why Snape wouldn't have stayed, James Potter would have tormented him.

"I'm sure James thought it was all in fun. But he took it too far, sometimes."

"How so?"

"Well, it irked him to see your mum with the Snape boy. One afternoon, Lily and the boy had come in after James and his mates had been there a couple of hours, just long enough to be bored. The Snape boy provided a diversion. When your mother turned your father down for the winter dance because she was going with Severus Snape, your father challenge the boy to a duel. Lily forbade it, protesting that it was archaic and sexist. But the boy refused to back down and out came their wands. It was the only time I'd ever seen anyone best James at anything. I believe the boy would have killed him had Voldemort not stepped in."

"Voldemort?"

"Yes, he'd been having lunch after an appointment at Hogwarts. . ."

"Ma'am, Hothgar can see you, now." A rather tall goblin offered the witch a hand.

"Oh well, another time, Dear." She called to Harry before heading into Hothgar's office.

Harry's head pounded. So, Voldemort had saved his father from Snape. But why? Why wouldn't he have let Snape kill his hated enemy? Was Snape already under Voldemort's tutelage? Was that their first meeting? Had Voldemort seen something dark in Snape that reminded him of himself? Or was he afraid that if Snape acted so rashly with Voldemort in close proximity that their association would have been known? A million different answers to a billion different questions bombarding Harry's mind.

He kept his eye trained on Hothgar's door. He wanted to get the witch's name and to set aside a time to visit her.

"Mr. Potter, Stute is ready for you." The goblin pointed down the opposite hallway to 117D. Harry looked back at 117A, where the witch had disappeared.

"The witch, the one you took back a second ago. What was her name?"

"Confidential," the goblin replied. Then mumbled something about not flouting rules even for the great Harry Potter.

"Can you give her a message for me?" Harry tried a different tactic.

"Do I look like your house elf? Really?" The goblin shook his head, clearly disgusted with Harry. "Stute," he called as he craned his neck around the door. "Mr. Potter."

"Ahhhhh, quite the celebrity. Do come in Potter," Stute gestured to the seat opposite his desk. "You are here about vault 8, I imagine?"

"Is that Severus Snape's vault?"

"Yes, his lawyer informed us of the inheritance. All the paperwork should be in order, I just need your signature, here." He pointed his spindly finger at the line.

Harry scribbled quickly. He wanted to get back to the witch.

"Do you have the key? Mr. Snape's copy?"

Harry pulled out the key ring. He wasn't sure if it was there. He looked at the keys looking for one that looked similar to his own vault key. "This one maybe?"

"Ahh, yes, that's it. Now, we need to change the palm print signature. It's a high security vault, you see. Much like Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. I'm sure you remember it."

Harry blushed. "Yes, of course, we can go down but I wanted to speak with the little witch who's in with Hothgar."

"We can always make an appointment for you to come back and change the palm print. Unless, of course, you don't intend on keeping the vault."

"Well, how much is the rental?"

"Six times over what you're paying for the other vault."

Harry's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Just how much gold was Snape sitting on?"

"Well, that's quite lofty. Perhaps I should have a look at the contents before I decide."

"Very well. I can call someone to accompany you now."

"Fine, thank you. I'll wait for them just out here."

When Harry returned to the waiting area, he noticed that 117 A was wide open. He walked over slowly and peeked inside. A short, fat female goblin sat behind a desk. "Can I help you?" She gawked at Harry in shock that someone could be so uncouth.

"The witch that was just here?"

"Has gone, Mr. Potter."

"Er- -do you perchance know where I can find her?"

"Mr. Potter!" She huffed.

"Mr. Potter," Golster had returned. "I've been asked to accompany you to number 8. I hope you are as good on a broom as you are a dragon," he said humorlessly.

It had actually taken less time to reach the lower vaults on the brooms than it had on the old track. Harry considered telling Golster that he thought it was quite an improvement. But the green look on the goblin's face told Harry that Golster wasn't fond of flying at all. Harry wondered if that was a trait common to goblins.

They stood in front of the vault. "Your key?"

Harry handed Golster the key and waited for the goblin to insert that bank's copy. "Now give it a minute, They are temporarily overriding the biosignature."

No sooner had Golster finished speaking than the vault cranked open.

"In you go," the goblin waited outside.

Harry had expected the golden glow that he'd seen in his own vault and that of Lestrange's. But there was no great riches, no family heirlooms. In fact, there was only a single object in the room. A small ebony wood box, just big enough for a pair of trainers.

Harry moved forward. As he got closer he noticed the delicate woodwork. He didn't know much about antiques or furniture but he would've bet that the piece was one of a kind, something Snape had had commissioned. It didn't surprise him then, to find that there was a white lily carved beautifully into the lid.

Harry went down to his knees in front of the box. He reached out but then hesitated. If this was the only thing in the expensive vault, then surely Snape had protected it with all sorts of spells and charms.

Harry touched the wood tentatively. No shocks or burning. So far, so good," he thought and then fingered the latch. It gave. Harry lifted the lid, where he found another lid. Harry tried to pull the second lid open but it wouldn't move. He grabbed his wand. "Alohomora."

White wispy letter rose from the box, they danced in the air, then spelled. "Clever." But the second lid was still secure.

Harry pointed his wand again. "Reveal your secrets."

"On whose authority?" The smoky words danced out of the box.

Harry thought about it. What would Snape use as a passcode? It hit him. Harry deepened his voice and spoke in short clipped notes, "By command of the Half-Blood Prince."

The smoke poofed then reformed into new words, "A test then."

"Go on," Harry replied.

"What sayeth the Half-Blood Prince to his enemies?" the letters shimmered in the air.

Harry didn't know why but it came to him easily. "Sectumsempra."

The letters vanished and new smoke rose from the box. "Who commandeth the Half-Blood Prince?"

Harry scratched his head. The answer depended entirely on when Snape had put the security measure in place. It could be either Voldemort or Dumbledore. Harry wondered what would happen if he answered incorrectly.

"Well?" The words moved before his eyes.

Harry decided to try something that at least sounded like something Snape might say. "The Half-Blood Prince answers only to his own conscience."

"Yes," the words formed, "that is true."

Harry exhaled sharply.

More words lifted out of the box. Harry wondered how many questions he have to answer.

"Who is the only love of the Half-Blood Prince?"

"Lily," Harry blurted.

The words vanished then popped into the air in all caps. "HER ROYAL TITLE!"

Royal title? What the hell was the box talking about? Had Snape had another love that he hadn't known about? Harry tried to think of any other woman who might have been mentioned in relation to Snape. He wished Hermione was with him. She was really good at remembering the most obscure references. He thought about the Death Eaters. Voldemort had called himself the Dark Lord. Snape had ordained himself the Half-Blood Prince. Would he have assigned Lily a royal moniker? Probably. But what?

" **Waiting**?" The words blared in bold in front of him.

A thought occurred to him. It was the only thing he had. It was worth a try. "The only love of the Half-Blood Prince is the MudBlood Princess."

The lock clicked and the hinge opened on its own revealing four graduated trays of black velvet. Each tray held seven small bottles in recessed grooves. Harry had seen similar bottles in Dumbledore's office. He was going to need a pensieve.


	9. Chapter 9

Hidden Memories

Chapter 9

Harry rushed out of Gringotts with the ebony box. He'd close the vault account later. There was no reason to keep the account open but he had more important things to deal with, first. Harry headed north down Diagon Alley. There was only one shop that he could think of that might sell what he required. It occurred to him belatedly that he might should have withdrawn some gold from his vault. He had no idea just how much a pensieve cost but he had the feeling that it definitely wouldn't come cheap.

A chubby little wizard, a full head shorter than Harry, swept the front step to Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. "Top O' the mornin'" he smiled his half-toothless grin at Harry.

"Morning, Sir." Harry nodded politely and ducked into the shop.

Scales were featured as the sale of the week but Harry paid them little mind. He moved past the display, looking for the aisle that might contain pensieves. He saw an endcap of Rememberalls and decided that would be the best aisle to try.

Harry found all sorts of memory inducing devices but no pensieve. He turned around hoping the theme would continued on the other side Sadly, all he found were various types of glasses and binoculars. A pair curiously similar to the ones that sat on Snape's mantle sat on the shelf just out of his reach. He stood on his tippy toes trying to get a hold on them.

"Ahemmm, can I help you?" A rather thin, tall woman asked him disapprovingly.

Harry jerked his hand back. "Sorry, I should've asked for assistance."

"Do you require a pair of Memoculars?" 

"Memoculars?"

"Well, that is what you are trying to reach, isn't it?" It was then that she recognized just who the annoying customer was. Her eyes popped wide and her manner changed. "Why you're Harry Potter. Here let me help you with those," She grabbed hold of the ladder that slid along the shelves and moved it toward the memoculars. "You're in luck, we are having a discount on memoculars this week," She climbed the ladder, taking quick steps. "Here you go."

Harry took the memoculars then held them to his eyes. They were all dark inside, just like the ones from Snapes mantle. Harry reached for his want.

"Uh-huh, sorry, not even for the great Harry Potter."

Harry's brow etched with confusion.

"Didn't you see the sign, young man? No wand work allowed in the store."

"Oh," Harry answered.

"Besides, there's nothing to see yet. You haven't recorded anything, nor has anyone, those are brand spanking new."

"I see," Harry answered but realized what he would likely find in Snape's memoculars. More images of his mother, no doubt. "Actually, I didn't come here for memoculars."

"No?"

"No," Harry smiled.

"Well, how about a pair of magnoculars?" She moved toward a pair of the glasses at Harry's right. "They magnify up to 200 times. Or a pair of x-ray glasses, see through just about anything? I know what you needed Encycloglasses, gives you an optical read-out of anything you're looking at."

Harry shook his head.

"Well then, how about some spectercles, not a ghost in the world that can stay hidden from a pair of those."

"Thank you but I came for a pensieve."

"Oh, you came for a pensieve did you? He came for a pensieve," the witch called out for the whole shop to here as it were some grand joke.

The short, chubby wizard who'd been sweeping, laughed, "Came for a pensieve did he?"

Harry looked back and forth between the two of them. He wasn't quite sure what was so strange about the request.

The tall witch leaned in and whispered, "Is You-Know-Who back?"

"What?" Harry jerked away from her. "No, why would you say that?"

"Well, you obviously want to hide some memories."

"It has nothing to do with Voldemort," Harry answered.

The witch flinched. She wasn't used to hearing Voldemort's name used so casually. She looked at the box tucked under Harry's arm.

"Oh, I see. You've stumbled upon some memories, have you?"

Harry was getting very annoyed.

"Nasty stuff that, messing in other people's pasts. Best left in the past, the past is."

Harry wasn't sure he didn't quite agree with her but if he wanted to know his mum, what other choice did he have? "Inheritance," Harry answered hoping she'd understand that he had a right to the memories.

"Either way! You won't likely find a pensieve here, on Diagon Alley. Maybe Knockturn Alley or somewhere specializing in the Dark Arts or Defense Against. . ."

"Thank you, then. I'll just be on my way." Harry felt rude when he moved past her but frankly, he didn't care.

"Are you sure I can't interest you in some spectercals or a new set of scales?" She called as the bell above the door rang signaling his exit.

When Harry reached the turn for Knockturn Alley, he paused. He couldn't believe for the life of him what he was about to do. Never in a thousand suns did he think that he would be returning to Borgin and Burkes, especially as a customer.

No sooner had he turned down the crooked street than he felt a weight on him as if he were wearing a heavy cloak. The sun seemed to have slipped behind the clouds and instead of looking like early morning, the alley was lit as if it were dusk and the temperature dropped suddenly. The air around him felt as cold as the stone walls looked. Even the ivy that grew along the cracks and crevices was black. Harry held the ebony box of memories tighter.

The signboard for Borgin and Burkes flapped as the wind picked up.

 _Potter, what are you doing?_ The Snape voice returned. Harry stopped and looked around. He was alone except for a drunkard who hobbled his way down the street. Harry peered at him closely. Maybe he'd spoken to him. "Excuse me," Harry called to the man.

"Spare a knut?"

Harry pulled a bronze coin from his pocket and handed it to the man.

"So generous," the man rasped sarcastically.

 _Ingrate_ , the Snape voice sneered and the man fell forward as if he'd been tripped.

Harry looked to see what the man might have fallen over. He didn't seen anything. He played it off as the man being drunk. Because the only other option was giving him the creeps. Surely, Snape wasn't there with him. He'd seen him die, Snape had died in his arms. And, Harry didn't want to think about Snape's ghost haunting him. Besides, ghosts in the wizarding world were visible, weren't they?"

Harry decided it was just the dark alley and it's reputation that were giving him the creeps. If Snape were haunting him, which he wouldn't put past the professor, he'd show himself, just to scare the crap out him, if nothing else.

Harry held tighter to the box and made his way onward to Borgin and Burkes.

There was no light on in the store and with no sunlight pouring in through the windows, the store was very near pitch dark. Harry heard someone or something rustling in the back corner of the store. "Hello," he called.

No one answered.

He tried again, "Hello, I said. Is anyone there?"

 _Just go to Hogwarts, Potter_ ," the slow deep drawl suggested.

"Will you kindly shut up?" Harry called to the thin air.

"Well, is that anyway to talk?" A grizzled old shopkeeper asked.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't speaking to you. Where's Borgin?"

The shopkeeper looked around. There was no one else about. He raised one eyebrow curiously at Harry. "I am the senior Mr. Borgin. What brings you into the store, today, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, I was wondering, where I would go about finding a pensieve. You don't happen to have one for sale, do you?"

The old man looked Harry over good. His eyes landed on the box. His long spindly finger went to his lips in delight. After a beat, he reached for the box.

Instinctively, Harry pulled the box away.

"Secrets. Hidden in the dark from the greatest Darkness. Where did you find them?"

"What do you know about secrets?"

"Lily." The man pointed to the flower carved into the ebony..

Harry shifted the box as if protecting his mother from the old wizard's sight. Harry got the distinct impression that the man had been a Death Eater. "Do you have a pensive, Mr. Borgin?"

"No, Mr. Potter. They are very hard to come by, for a good reason. I believe Dumbledore had one."

A fat lot of good that information did him. Harry knew there was the one at Hogwarts. He was hoping for one that would offer him a little more privacy. "Well, thank you for your time."

"I made that box you know. Powerful magic. I'm curious how you were able to open it."

"What makes you so sure I have?" Harry's eyes burned with defiance.

"You're looking for a pensieve, Mr. Potter. That can't be a coincidence."

Harry now had a question of his own. "How did you know what the box contained? The owner could've put anything in the box."

"The Half-Blood Prince had only one thing to hide from the Dark Lord."

 _Enough_.

Harry looked over his shoulder. Snape was still not there. He looked back to Old Man Borgin. "Why did you help him hide his memories?"

"I suppose I was somewhat a romantic, myself. I was also a Slytherin who harbored feelings for another Gryffindor witch. I sympathized with Severus. Doesn't really matter though, does it. He couldn't save her in the end. Poor, pitiful Severus, he was always out of his league, with Voldemort and with Lily. He wasn't dark enough for him and he was too dark for her. Not man enough for either of them.

Harry and the senior Borgin jumped as a shelf full of merchandise collapsed onto the floor, breaking and shattering glass everywhere. The windows rattled and a wind roared through the shop. Then suddenly the cold was gone. Sun filtered in through the windows, reflecting on the broken shards and scattering light throughout the shop.


End file.
